One Old Owl
by Adele Elisabeth
Summary: Montgomery is just one old owl, but sometimes one old owl sees more than others...


My name is Montgomery J Montaque, and I am an owl. I was born in a small shop in France, at a time when talking owls were rare. My mother could not talk, but my father could, and so could my sisters and I. No brothers for Montgomery J, my father used to tell me I was his 'sole heir'. Aside from my sisters, of course. Cecelia, Jacqueline, and Yvette, those were their names. I remember our cage – it was enormous! Jacqueline was the most popular of us, but not for sale, since the shopkeeper's daughter had taken a fancy to her. She would sit by the bars of the cage, and confide in the customers about how annoying I was and how silly Cecelia and Yvette were. Cece always wondered why nobody wanted to buy her – she was the prettiest little thing. I didn't have the heart to tell her, she looked up to Jacqueline.  
  
_'Montgomery is the silliest old owl. He's always complaining about things, you know.' Jacqueline confided to one little boy. 'He never ever says anything nice to me – not ever! I think he likes Cecelia better than me. She's awfully pretty, isn't she? She hasn't a brain in her head!'  
  
I watched Jacqueline from my perch. Cecelia and Yvette were on the other side of our cage, preening for a Beauxbatons first year girl.  
_  
My first owner was a girl named Gloria Montaque. Gloria was sweet, she never complained about anything. She was very sick, but she never once complained – though I know she must have been in a lot of pain. She had a particularly bad case of Crohns, which meant she was prone to illness and her hands shook. In mild cases, that's all it means. In Gloria's case, it meant she was constantly bedridden and in pain. Her Mother, Cassandra Montaque, bought me for her as a companion. I tried my hardest to brighten her days, but I don't know if I had any effect. She was always so sunny anyway. She was fourteen when I got there, and had been taken out of Beauxbatons because she could no longer keep up with studies at school. Since it seemed doubtful that she would last very long – four years at most – she was taken out of school, sent home and made as comfortable as possible. She was always trying to brighten my day – telling me stories about how my sisters had gone to wonderful homes, where they were happy all day and had lovely owners, things like that. At the time, I wondered why she needed to focus on other people's happiness – the home she was in was rich, she had a loving mother and little siblings, what was the problem? Looking back, I should have realized. Maxwell Montaque III was not a nice man, and he despised the fact that his oldest child was a girl. Gloria bore the full force of his temper whenever he was around her – never when I was there, though. Gloria died when she was sixteen, in her sleep. She was smiling, and I think now that it was probably for the best. She escaped her father, didn't she?  
  
My next owner was Gloria's little brother, eight-year-old Gerad Montaque. Gerad decided that he would keep me until his baby sister Morganna Maria Montaque was old enough to have me – it would be her sixth birthday present, he told me.  
  
_'It'll be great, Monty! She'll love you, just like Gloria did! Just you wait!' Gerad told me in that excited voice of his. I was secretly a little apprehensive, Gerad's other two sister's, Lacrimosa and Lucia, were not like Gloria in the least. Bickering, argumentative, and constantly complaining about something.  
_  
So, when Morganna turned six, I was presented to her. To my eternal delight, Morganna was a lot like Gloria, the sister who had died only weeks before she was born. There was only one thing that made me fear – Morganna had been born with Crohns as well. She would cry distressingly whenever she got sick, and it was heart-rending. Lacrimosa was viciously cruel to her little sister, who was four years younger. When Morganna turned eleven, I was glad simply because it meant she would be going to Beauxbatons and Lacrimosa wouldn't have such good opportunities to harass her.  
  
_'I don't want to go, Gom. Lacci said nobody'll like a horrid person like me!' Morganna cried. She was the picture of misery.  
  
'Don't be silly, Anna. Lacci's just being cruel, you know that. Lots of people will like you, you're a very nice little girl.' Back then, Morganna was shortened to 'Anna'. Sometimes she was 'Maria'. It was mainly because she had a cousin the same age also named Morganna Maria Montaque.  
  
'If you say so, Gom. You always know best.' Morganna wiped away her tears and beamed at me. I truly hoped that I was right, she was so trusting, if I was wrong – it was like kicking a puppy.  
_  
When she was twelve, she and I went to England to live with her aunt, Margolotta Winterburn. She grew up to be a beautiful, brave, mature young lady, but as far as I'm concerned, she's still my little Anna. I don't tell her that, though. For starters, her husband would like to beat me to death. She has a daughter of her own now – that's my current owner. Morag Lillith Snape.  
  
Morganna married Severus Snape, under particularly odd circumstance, at the end of her sixth year. He was finishing his seventh year at the time – a year ahead of her, I noted. I never quite forgave him – because he didn't love her until after he'd hurt her.  
  
_'Oh, Gom, I was so stupid! He's engaged to Sirius's sister – Lucia talked me into telling him, it's her fault.' Morganna sobbed into her pillow, and I tried my hardest to be comforting, but it's rather difficult to comfort Morganna at times.  
  
'You're not stupid, Anna, darling girl. Snape's not worth your time if he can't realize what he's missing.' I told her forcefully. I meant it, too. I maintained then, and still maintain now, that Severus Snape was the stupid one during all of that.  
  
'I am stupid, Gom.' Like I said, Morganna can be hard to comfort. It's because she's so stubborn – like Gloria was.  
_  
She'd cry herself to sleep the first week or so. Then she met Jonathan O'Connell – who was a prat then and is a prat now. Still unhappy because of Snape, she was flattered at O'Connell's attentions, and wasn't quite thinking straight. My poor Anna, she got flustered easy.  
  
Well, exactly what I predicted would happen – happened. Trouble. I didn't predict her getting pregnant – certainly not, how dare you consider that I would say such a thing of my Anna? – but I did predict trouble.  
  
When she went to ask Snape to be godfather, it turned out he wasn't engaged any longer, and was in love with her. Talk about bad timing, old boy. So they married, and raised Morag as Snape's daughter as much as Morganna's.  
  
Now I am Morag's owl, and I am quite happy about this. What I'm not happy about is Morag's cousin, Elysoun Eleyne Montaque. Elysoun overheard Morganna discussing Jonathan with her brother – Elysoun's father, Gerad. Naturally, the little banshee went straight to Morag with the news. Morag reacted exactly how I always thought she would – badly. She told her parents (Severus and Morganna, of course. Jonathan is not a parent) that she was fine, she understood. She'd come to me first, and I'd filled in the blanks, so she knew exactly what had happened. Of course, Morag's a very good liar – her grandfather was one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, and a damn good liar – and she was and is no such thing. She isn't fine now, and she wasn't fine then. I think something's going to happen – and not something good, either.  
  
Of course, I'm just one old owl. What do I know?

(The moral of this story? Never trust a squirrel.) 


End file.
